


A Place Beyond the Rains

by thewiggins



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Dimension Travel, Drama & Romance, Dramedy, F/M, Surreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 04:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14417958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewiggins/pseuds/thewiggins
Summary: When Buffy jumped through Glory's portal, she found herself here, trapped in a pocket dimension between the universes. Now she passes her time working in the diner of a weird truck stop where there are no trucks while she battles against her new nemesis, a broken frozen yogurt machine, and fantasizes about rescue and a way home. When someone finally does arrive, things don't exactly go as she'd imagined.Winner of the Sunnydale Fanfic Club's April Rains contest!





	1. Where I Want to Be

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Written for The Sunnydale Fanfic Club's April Fanfic contest. The theme is "April Rain" and the challenge object is "broken yogurt machine". And somehow from there I got this.
> 
> My first posted version was unbeta'd and riddled with small errors. I wrote the story in a frantic rush to meet the contest deadline, writing just under 10,000 words in a week. I am still blown away that I wound up winning the contest! I am super appreciative of the overwhelmingly kind and positive feedback that I've gotten since posting this story.
> 
> Special thanks to GillO for offering to beta, her feedback has been invaluable in producing the revised draft that I am now uploading! Any remaining errors are, of course, all my own. Additional thanks to OffYourBird for generously creating this beautiful banner. 
> 
> And thanks to the folks at the Sunnydale Fanfic Club for hosting this contest and giving me the inspiration to write this story. Check out their podcast if you haven't already, it's awesome! I am going to be joining them for their next episode, which will be recorded at Whedoncon in LA! I am so incredibly excited and grateful!
> 
> UPDATE: Here's a link to the podcast episode if anyone's curious: https://thesunnydalefanficclub.tumblr.com/post/174350933871/with-the-wiggins-at-whedon-con

It was raining outside. It was always raining outside. Buffy watched the rain out of the corner of her eyes as she bent over the chipped Formica table, refilling the mugs of the two morose Verglos demons. She asked if there was anything else they needed, and they just looked at her for a long moment, their saucer-sized vermilion eyes damp and shining in the gray light.

“Nothing you can get us.”

“Alrighty then. Well, I’ll just be back to check on you in a little bit.”

Buffy returned the carafe of coffee (or what passed for it here, Schraz could never get the flavor quite right) to its place on the warmer and went to stand at her favorite spot behind the counter, close enough to the ice machine that she could almost pretend not to hear the music from the jukebox. She leaned on one elbow and casually scanned the sparse crowd of assorted demons. Everyone seemed to be munching contentedly enough.

Schraz, a red-skinned demon with what looked like a severe, full-body case of acne, was seated at one of the corner booths, chatting up a group of Ferith demons that had arrived earlier that week. Next to them, the temperamental jukebox was churning out a strange mix of screeching and growling. Schraz had stocked the jukebox with an eclectic combination of Earth music, from doo-wop to reggae to electronica, but he also seemed to have a nostalgic fondness for the music of his home dimension, which was, to Buffy's ears, pretty much unlistenable. At least it helped drown out the constant pounding of the downpour against the roof.

A loud mechanical rumble cut through the drone of the ice machine and the muted cacophony of the demon music, causing Buffy to whip her head around, suddenly alert. But, of course, it was just _it_. The squat machine rattled ominously for a minute, its three handles vibrating slightly before the right nozzle dripped a thick splorch of something milky, yet acid green. Buffy’s lip curled in disgust and she purposefully turned her back on _it_.

Content that no one seemed to need help at the moment, Buffy allowed herself to drift, her unfocused eyes a watching point just on the other side of the glass door. Out there, past the familiar beveled aluminum handle and friendly “Pull” sign, was nothing. Nothing but that wall of rain and the seemingly endless fields of sticky gray muck. But that rain… There was something mesmerizing about it. The thick sheets it fell in, the way it almost seemed to have a rhythm, a pattern, like waves on the ocean. The way she sometimes felt as if she could almost see through it, beyond it to the other worlds she knew were out there. See through to home. But she didn't want to imagine her home as blurred and rain-washed as here. Home was where the sun shone.

Still, everyone at Schraz’ knew there was only one way out of this strange little pocket dimension that had gobbled them up. And that was through the rains. It was always the same. Someone would be here for a while, eating at the diner, shopping in the store, working out in the gym. And then they’d walk outside and vanish for good. Of course, it was possible that they'd wandered too far from Schraz’ tiny oasis of civilization and gotten lost. Without any identifiable landmarks, you could wander until you collapsed and were swallowed by the mire. But Buffy didn't think that was what happened. At least, she hoped not. When someone vanished, everyone said that the rains had taken them. And it was better to believe that that was true than to believe that they were all stuck here like spiders washed down the drain. Schraz even swore that he'd gotten repeat customers a couple of times.

Buffy would walk out there about once a week. Or rather she'd walk out once in what _felt_ like a week, time was hard to keep track of in a place with no clocks or calendars or even a discernible difference between day and night. Sometimes she’d wander blindly, looking for anything that seemed like an opening or a portal among the featureless gray. She never found anything and she’d always wind up panicking as the red light of Schraz’ tall truck stop sign began to blur away into the gloom.

Other times she’d just go and stand out there, willing the rains to take her away, back to Dawn and Willow and Xander and Giles. To home, to Sunnydale, to her life, and her purpose. She’d stand, getting steadily wetter, as she tried to visualize the Magic Box or her house or the UC Sunnydale campus or the Espresso Pump. She'd try to see them in crystal-clear detail, hoping that the stupid rains would get the hint. But after a while, the details would start to blur and slip away and all she'd be able to see was the leaden wall of precipitation as the chill soaked into her skin.

In the end, she'd always trudge back disappointed. She’d walk past the line of eyes in the diner, through the door to the shop, picking up another bottle of travel-sized shampoo, and taking it to the neat line of avocado-colored showers stalls in the back of the ladies restroom. She'd carefully wash off all the muck before collapsing into the bed in her sparse little room. On these occasions, no one ever stopped her or asked any questions. They all knew. They’d all tried the same thing many times.

And so Schraz’ had become her whole world. Buffy worked in the diner during periods that she arbitrarily called day and divided her “nights” between the diner, the gym, and her room. There was a TV in her room but, for some reason, it seemed to be stuck in the year 1973. At least the reruns of Star Trek were alright. What would Xander say if he found out Buffy was watching and enjoying one of his favorite nerdy shows? That she now knew most of the lines to “The Trouble With Tribbles” and “Dagger of the Mind” by heart? God, sometimes she missed her friends so much she ached.

Buffy’s work in the diner allowed her to pick out pretty much anything she needed from the store, which stocked an odd variety of things from truck stop and convenience store favorites such as junk food and travel-sized toiletries to some truly bizarre demonic staples. Shrunken heads, weird pulsating seed pods, sealed packs of some kind of ominous black gel, were just a few of the oddities that Schraz sold, traded, or just gave away to the visiting demons. Schraz had some kind of transmutation ability, the power to create virtually anything out of the primordial mud of this place. Which was of the good, Buffy supposed, because otherwise she'd have starved long ago, and been very wet and uncomfortable in the process. But while this place was a refuge of sorts, it also felt terribly like a trap. Not that she thought there was any conscious entity behind the trap. For a while she'd had the the hypothesis that Schraz had somehow created this place, nabbing people and demons up for some sinister purpose. But then it'd become clear that he was as stuck as any of them, just better able to make the most of it.

Until recently, Buffy had had something to distract herself with in the form of a TV-star-handsome busboy named Groo. At first, when Groo had come in, covered in sludge, she’d mistaken him for human. But then she'd seen his eyes. They were an opaque, unnatural shade of indigo. Beautiful in their way. _But the wrong blue_ , Buffy hadn't been able to keep herself from thinking sometimes as she looked into them.

Groo and Buffy had struck up a friendship of sorts, then a relationship of loneliness and convenience. The sex was good, if uninspired. Afterward, they'd spent long hours lying listlessly together on Buffy’s small bed, talking to drown out the incessant pounding on the roof. They rarely got very personal, preferring to stick to stories about monsters fought and evils thwarted.

Apparently, Groo had been some kind of champion among his people. He'd proven so talented in the field of combat that they'd been forced to overlook his obvious deformity, and given him a very long name which apparently meant “the brave and undefeated”. At the mention of Groo’s apparent “deformity”, Buffy had laughed.

“She laughed at that too.” Groo had smiled.

Buffy had known by then that “she” referred to his “princess”, the woman that Groo had stepped through the portal to find. Groo had explained that in his home dimension, people who looked like the two of them were generally treated no better than beasts. But then he'd been told of a destiny, a prophecy which had led him to his princess. She'd turned out to be a beautiful woman from another world who had been given the throne of Groo's kingdom because she was “cursed” with the power of visions. Buffy had refrained from telling him that a female ruler was a queen, not a princess. And she hadn’t needed to ask why being able to see the future would be called a curse. She knew enough from her own life to see why that might be true.

“She also looked like us. Like a human, as you’d say. I’d never thought someone who looked like us could be beautiful before.”

Groo’s story was a little hard to follow. He tended to get caught up in the epic battles and miss some of the smaller, more important details. Plus he told everything in the flowery yet repetitive language of some of Giles' more boring books. Apparently, the gist of it was that Groo and his princess found out that they were being used by the true rulers of the kingdom, some kind of shadowy, evil cult thing. Along with the princess’ companions, including one which Groo puzzlingly described as some kind of man-monster, they were able to overthrow the bad guys. Hurray! But the princess, despite having told Groo she loved him, had decided that she had to return to her own world. Less hurray. To be with Groo would mean losing her visions and she’d explained that she needed them to help the people back home. So she’d left with her companions: it’d been up to Groo to form the new government. That hadn’t worked out. Buffy hadn’t said anything, but she hadn't been exactly shocked. Groo was a sweet guy, but Buffy thought that he lacked a certain edge and force of will that was necessary for true leadership. So the brave and undefeated had been quickly overthrown. But at least now he’d been free to pursue his princess. Only… he’d found himself here instead and gotten stuck.

The last time Buffy had seen him, he’d been sitting on the end of the bed, staring blankly into space.

“She didn’t really love me, did she? My princess. If she did, she would have found a way that she could stay, or that I could come with her.”

Buffy hadn’t known what to say, but she'd suspected he was probably right. A few hours later, Groo had walked out into the rains and disappeared.

Behind Buffy, _it_ made another wet splorching noise. One of the Verglos demons let out a heavy sigh. Buffy needed a fantasy, desperately. Something to take her mind off her musings. She would concentrate on the door and _make_ someone come through it. She'd done it a thousand times. The only question was who.

Angel had been an early favorite, stepping slowly through the door, hair dripping and eyes all sad and soulful the way they’d been that night when everything had broken irrevocably between the two of them. But thinking about him had always left her feeling hollow and melancholy, and that fantasy had dried up over time. She’d thought about Riley sometimes, throwing open the door, zap-gun in hand, military-issue tank top clinging to his muscular chest, ready to pull a Rambo-style rescue mission. But she couldn't quite imagine him coming for her and, worse, she was never entirely convinced that she _wanted_ him to.

Of course, there’d been Willow and Xander, together or on their own, grinning like fools and running across the diner to throw their arms around her. Sometimes, just to mix things up, she’d even cast Anya or Tara as her unlikely rescuers. Or the whole gang would bust through the door together in one confused mess. And _Giles_. Now there was a perennial favorite. Stepping across the threshold and polishing his rain-covered glasses, looking up and smiling that warm, fatherly smile he seemed to reserve for her. Sometimes, ironically, it’d be Dawn, saving her this time. Some days she’d be all smiles and overly casual jokes, others she’d berate her sister for leaving her behind. But Buffy didn't see Dawn often. Mostly she preferred to imagine her happy, elsewhere.

After a while, Buffy had started throwing in people who couldn’t come to her rescue, or who she knew never would. Her dad, calling her by pet names he hadn't used since she was a little girl, gesturing to a car improbably parked outside and telling her that she was going to be late for the ice show. Oz, sidling casually in and greeting her with a simple “Hey” as if no time had passed. Ms. Calendar, Billy Fordham, and Xander’s dead friend Jesse had all made their own appearances. Her mom, smiling gently, untouched by rain, warm and bright and smelling slightly of waffles.

Lately, just to keep things interesting, she’d even started digging into the truly extended cast of her life. Jonathan, Amy, that girl who'd sat three rows behind her in 11th-grade Chemistry and chatted loudly through the teacher's explanations. Random teachers, guidance counselors, and even that math professor she’d had in her first semester at UC Sunnydale with the halitosis and the toothbrush ears. It was when even the thought of his wrinkled face filled her with longing that Buffy realized how deeply she missed home and longed for familiar human contact.

Even her enemies were starting getting a place in the rotation.

The Mayor, stepping through the door with that casual ease, looking around with disdain, obviously underwhelmed by the hygiene standards of the diner. “Now, really Buffy. Is _this_ where you saw yourself at this point in your life? You had the potential to do so much better. But, of course, after what you did to my Faith, you deserve so much worse.”

Faith herself, crashing roughly through the door. Sometimes she would give Buffy that devious, disarming smile that seemed to invite Buffy to join her in a breathless run down winding, narrow paths through the darkness. Others, she would just growl with near feral rage and spring at Buffy.

Angelus, swaggering in, Drusilla swaying dreamily behind him. “Aw, poor Buff. You know I never really saw you as the service industry type. But then, I always saw you more as the dead and brutally mutilated type, so there's that.”

Adam, Mr. Trick, Kaikistos, Dracula, The Master. Anyone remotely interesting that she’d fought would show up at one time or another, offering an invitation back into her life, into the fight.

Sometimes it'd be the Anointed One who would come for her. His open child’s face would look up at her, eyes wide and dark and guileless, and he would hold out his hand to guide her to her destiny.

Of all the people she'd imagined, the one that seemed the most infuriatingly inconstant was Spike. Sometimes he was in full-on Big Bad mode, every inch the vampire that she’d first seen in that alley behind the Bronze, all swagger and ill intent. “Slayer. Good seeing you. You know, I’ve been just so _bored_ with nothing decent to _kill_.” And then sometimes he’d have shifted slightly into the Spike that she’d known that other night in the same alley, years later. Still sinister, still dangerous, but with something else, some note of longing slipping into his smooth movements. “Come on, Slayer, you know you want to dance.” Yet other times he’d stand in the doorway and stare at her the way he had from the bottom of the staircase on the night she'd jumped, the night he'd told her that she treated him like a man.

Slowly the image of Spike formed in her mind. She saw him saunter in, miraculously dry. He'd lean against the vinyl of a nearby booth just so, giving her a wry smile. “So this is where you’ve been keeping yourself all this time, Slayer.” His expression would soften just slightly and he'd take a step forward. “I’ve been looking for you.”

_It_ rumbled again, plaintively this time, breaking her out of her reverie. Argh! Why did she have to keep thinking about Spike? Especially like this, with even a sliver of hope that he might really come for her. Yeah, he’d seemed to love her, but how long would the love of a soulless demon really last while she wasn't in the picture for him to obsess over? And why did she even want him to?

“Buffy!”

Schraz was jerking his head at a large reptilian demon sitting at the bar. Oh yeah, it did look like his plate had been scraped, possibly even licked, clean and his mug emptied.

Buffy walked over to the reptile, doing her best to paste a smile on her face as she did.

“Was everything to your satisfaction, sir?”

“F-f-fine, f-f-fine. It would have been better if-f it had wiggled more, but f-for an es-s-stablishment like this-s? Better than I was ex-xpecting.”

“I’ll let the cook know. Now, can I get you any dessert?”

“I could comns-sume more. What do you hav-ve?”

“Well, we have pie. Our flavors right now are blackberry, l’chuk berry, and uh… key lime I think. We also have Mississippi Mud Bars and Krisirian Larval Pods. And uh…”

Buffy lowered her voice, speaking in an undertone that she hoped the demon wouldn’t catch.

“Frozen yogurt.”

“F-frozen yogurt? I have never tried this-s. Tell me. What is-s it like?”

“Oh, it’s, uh, sweet and cold. It comes out in kind of a swirl. We have two flavors right now. Dill pickle and black olive.”

Buffy tried not to make a face. She'd had explained the concept of frozen yogurt to Schraz, but he’d never really seemed to understand which flavors were appropriate and which were distinctly not.

“But, er, if you want my suggestion, I’d really recommend going with the blackberry pie.”

The demon shook his head slowly.

“I don’t like berries-s. I do like the s-sound of this froz-zen yogurt though. I will take both dill pickle and black oliv-ve. S-s-swirled.”

Buffy forced a smile.

“Great. I’ll get that right out for you.”

She turned, silently cursing the demon using a creative assortment of oaths that she’d picked up during her stay here. He _had_ to go and order the yogurt. She grabbed a bowl from the stack on the counter and marched toward the finicky machine with the same determination that she’d once taken into battle. She held the bowl with one hand, careful not to touch its bottom to the slotted drip catcher underneath the machine, which was covered in drying lumps of green and black, pooled together into a sickening mixture. With her other hand, she carefully, oh so carefully, eased the middle nozzle towards an upright position. Nothing… She eased it up a bit more. Still nothing. Just a little more… _Splurch!_ There was an awful wet noise and suddenly the monstrous machine started to disgorge its contents over the bowl and, rapidly, her arm. She tried to pull the handle back down but it wiggled loosely, doing nothing.

In frustration and disgust, Buffy slammed the bowl and its sloppy contents on the counter a bit too roughly, causing a loud cracking noise. Great, if everyone hadn't been looking at her already, they were now. She smiled apologetically at the crowd and caught Schraz’ eye.

“Uh, cover me for a minute. I’ll just… clean this up.”

OK. First, she needed a small bucket or something to catch the frozen yogurt. It had stopped cascading out of the machine but was still falling in fat little trails and landing heavily on the already overflowing drip-catcher. It made Buffy think somehow of slugs giving birth. Did slugs give birth? Well, slimy slug demons maybe? Ugh. She pushed the thoughts from her head and hustled to the back to get something to clean up with.

Under the sink, she found a small red bucket, normally used to hold sanitizing solution. She grabbed it and shoved it under the dripping machine before rushing back and thrusting her arms under the faucet of the little hand-washing sink, watching the sticky green liquid flow down the drain.

The cook, Yavis, gave her a sympathetic look.

“Rough day?”

“You could say that. Ugh! I keep telling Schraz to fix that machine! And maybe add some edible flavors. But he just looks like me like I’ve got turnips growing out of my ears.”

Yavis shrugged.

“You know, I’m not sure what you’ve got against the flavors we have. The dill pickle is quite nice I think.”

“Yeah, well you also love the Krisirian larval pods.”

“And I still say you don’t know what you’re missing. They’re a real delicacy where I come from.”

“I’ll pass thanks. But I’d still rather serve them any day over that stupid yogurt. _Ugh._ I'm starting to have nightmares about the stuff.”

As they talked Buffy poured warm, soapy water into the mop bucket. She was just grabbing the mop from its hook on the wall when she heard the door opening.

She froze. Had any of the current guests gone to try their luck outside? Or was this someone new?

And then she heard a heartbreakingly familiar voice addressing the crowd.

“’Lo all. I’m looking for a girl. Blonde. Pretty. Answers to Buffy. Anyone seen her?”

Buffy was vaguely aware of the mop clattering out of her hands. She abandoned the mop bucket, running out of the kitchen, her sneakers pounding against the linoleum. And there he was, standing right in the middle of her dining room, coat dripping a puddle onto the floor. _Oh weird,_ Buffy was able to register, _brown hair,_ at the same time as most of her mind was consumed by _oh, my God, he’s here. He’s here. He came for me. Someone came for me._

Her momentum never slowed, she had to get to him, had to touch him, had to confirm that this wasn’t just an especially weird and vivid daydream. She was so determined to get to him that she forgot about the puddle of melting yogurt which had slowly spread across the floor in her absence. She slid wildly forward and barely caught herself on the counter, gripping it with white knuckles, staring. All eyes had turned to her. Including his. They widened, filling with wonder. And then he seemed to be soaking her up, taking in every detail. She knew he must be noticing, in turn, the ugly waitress’s uniform, the lack of make-up, the lusterless hair, fed on a steady diet of bad shampoo. She wondered if he could see the weariness that always seemed to rest in the back of her eyes.

And she was likewise absorbing the sight of him. The hair was the weirdest: longer now, past his ears, a thick strand clinging to his forehead and threatening to drip into his eyes. He seemed thinner, more stretched out. There was a gauntness to his face. Spike's clothes at least appeared to be his regular all-black attire, but this was difficult to be sure of, covered as they were in the thick, slate-colored slurry.

And then, to her surprise, his lips quirked into a smile and he half-collapsed into a fit of laughter. And Buffy, to her even greater surprise found herself laughing too, doubled over the counter.

It was all so absurd. This was certainly not how either of them had imagined first being seen by the other, after all this time. They would have preferred to look a little more dignified. To not be covered in mud or slipping on pickle-flavored yogurt. But none of that mattered. It was crazy to think that it could matter in the face of the enormous relief that he was _here_. That someone had come.

The laughter lasted for a long moment as the patrons stared at them in amazement. Then Buffy's eyes met his and something intense and powerful flashed between them. _Wow_ , Buffy thought. _That is exactly the right shade of blue._

The laughter evaporated and suddenly they were both moving. She was at his side in an instant. They stood, inches from each other, close enough that she could smell earth and wet leather and beneath that, just faintly, the achingly familiar scent of cigarettes and whiskey and blood. And there was that look, that old awe that she’d been so certain would be gone by now. Almost without thought, she reached out and gently touched the side of his face. It was cool and speckled with beads of water. Smooth skin stretched over bone. Solid. His eyes closed in pleasure for a moment, but then flickered anxiously open again. Buffy got it. He was afraid that if he looked away for an instant she might disappear.

It was Buffy who finally broke the silence.

“You’re really here.”

“Yeah. And you.”

Spike smiled and gently touched a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail, tucking it behind her ear.

Buffy was suddenly intensely aware that she and Spike still had the diner's undivided attention. They were the best entertainment anyone had had in weeks.

She spoke softly, not taking her eyes off of Spike.

“Uh, just a second.”

She caught Schraz’ eyes. He grinned at her and raised his eyebrows.

“I, uh, I’m gonna take my break.”

She turned back to Spike, who, thankfully, had not disappeared.

“So, uh, what now? Do we go…?”

She gestured toward the door.

“I… uh, was kind of hoping for a moment to catch my breath. It's been a bit of a rough trip.”

“But you don’t need to breathe.”

Looking at him she could see that he did look exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and she’d never seen him quite so thin. But she was relentless. She needed to get home.

“Oh, come on Spike!” She cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet, filled with a strange, bubbly energy. “I’ve been waiting all this time! You can rest when we get back to Sunnydale. I’ll... I'll get you all the blood and cigarettes you need. A year’s supply! God, it’ll be so good to see everyone again! How’d you get here anyway? Did Willow do a spell or something like that?”

“Something like that…”

If Spike seemed a little reluctant to follow her as she dragged him out the door and into the rain, Buffy barely noticed.

She was going home.


	2. Lift Me Up and Turn Me 'Round

Buffy marched purposefully out into the rains, which immediately began beating down on her, soaking through her clothes. The sodden ground caught her feet with each step and made sickening noises each time she yanked them free. Spike stepped hesitantly through the door and followed after her, hands shoved deep into his pockets, seeming to shiver slightly under the meteorological assault. Which, Buffy thought irritably, was ridiculous. Spike was _always_ cold. Why should a little rain bother him?

“So how does this work? Is Willow gonna open up a portal or something?”

She looked around, half expecting to see a glowing blue portal hanging in the air somewhere. But all she saw was the vast expanse of gray.

“Er, that's the thing, Buffy. It doesn't work quite like that. This place is hideously difficult to open a portal into, and impossible to open a portal out of. The portal I came in through vanished pretty much the moment I was clear. Besides, it opened somewhere up there.”

He gestured vaguely upwards.

“Wouldn't exactly be easy to clamber back in even if it was still open. Far as I know, there's only one way out of here, and you're standing in it.”

Buffy sighed in frustration and kicked angrily at the mud. A fat glob of it went flying, only to land with a heavy squelch several feet away.

“The rains. Yeah. Everyone back there says it’s the rains. They carry you away or something. But I don’t get it. I come out here at least once a week and stand in the stupid rains, but all they ever do is get me all soaking wet and ruin my mood.”

She shot an accusatory look at the matte gray sky and its liquid barrage, but the rain continued to fall as usual, oblivious to reproach.

Spike stepped closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. It rested so lightly she could barely feel it – as if he was afraid that she would flinch away from his touch at any moment.

“Look, from what I heard, you’ve gotta just sort of… accept it. Close your eyes and let them take you.”

“Do you think I haven’t tried?”

Buffy did pull away from Spike's touch, stomping off a few paces to gaze disconsolately at the endless monotony ahead of her.

“You know, I really thought that you’d have a better plan for getting us out of here, though I guess you're not exactly know for your stellar planning, are you?”

“Well, I'm sorry to disappoint,” Spike said, his voice prickly, “but really there _is_ no other way. Look, let’s just try, OK?”

“Fine.” She huffed out a heavy sigh. “Maybe with you here it'll work differently or something.”

Buffy closed her eyes and thought about home. She thought about how it would be really nice if a certain somewhat overrepresented weather phenomenon would finally do something useful with its existence and take her back to her friends. How she would be just _super accepting_ of that.

Nothing. Buffy stood in silence for as long as she could tolerate, till her skin got cold and her teeth started to chatter.

“Buffy... Uh, maybe we should get you back in, luv.”

Buffy let out a groan of frustration.

“Arrgh! It’s just so unfair! I mean, you show up and I'm all excited about the possibility of getting home and seeing everyone again and going back to my life and I’m supposed to what… think of nothing? Just wait for these stupid rains to take their sweet-ass time getting me home? I’m ready! Just take me already!”

The last bit she shouted at the skies, which ignored her completely.

“Look pet, let's just go in, warm up for a little while and then try again, yeah?”

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fine.”

She gave the sky one last “this isn’t over” look, before storming back to Schraz’ in a very foul mood.

All eyes were on her as she pushed open the door and squelched angrily to her favorite corner booth underneath the creased posters of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe. She noted with a hint of guilt, that Yavis was busily mopping up the mess from the frozen yogurt machine: she'd forgotten about it completely. But far from looking angry, he gave Buffy a rueful little smile. He knew as much as any how hard a failed trip out could be.

Spike slid into the booth across from her, anxiously drumming his fingers on its surface. His nails were unpolished, Buffy realized. Given the general roughness of his appearance, she guessed that this was not so much a personal choice as it was yet another little thing that had been edged out of his life lately.

Schraz approached them, smiling, a little notepad in his hand. Buffy tried not to sigh. The last thing she needed was his perennially cheerful attitude.

“So, you couldn't leave.” He shrugged philosophically. “Shame. Maybe later you will. For now, I'm happy to have the chance to get to know your mysterious friend here.” He turned to Spike, his eyes eager. “You are also from Earth?”

“That obvious, eh?”

Schraz put a finger to the side of his pitted nose.

“I can always tell. I’m a bit of what you might call an Earth-ophile myself. My cousin Shelzin left for Earth long time ago. When he comes back to visit, he brings these.” He gestured at the posters on the wall. “He tells me all about Earth life and about Hollywood movies. Since then, I know I have to go see. Maybe even make movies. Become big star. Who knows? But, when I try to get to Earth I wind up here. Oh well. I build this place and make the best of it. But we will have plenty of time to discuss this. Now, what can I make for you?”

Spike cast Buffy a sheepish look, speaking with uncharacteristic hesitancy.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any blood would you?”

“Oh! A vampire, are you? My cousin tells me all about this. And of course, I see vampire movies, on the television. But Shelzin says that they are not accurate. Vampires don't come here, usually. They only live on Earth and don’t like to travel. Is shame. Hmm... Blood is not on our normal menu, but I see what I can do. Human, I assume? I am correct in understanding that human blood is a vampire's favorite meal?”

Spike glanced at Buffy, looking profoundly uncomfortable. Buffy just shrugged, kind of enjoying watching him squirm.

“Uh, you’re not wrong, mate. But where do you get your blood?”

“Oh, I have knack for transmutation. Everything here was created using raw materials available to me.”

Spike looked at him in confusion and Schraz gestured expansively at the world beyond the windows.

“The mud of course! But it will not taste like mud, I promise!”

“Uh, alright then. I’ll try it.”

“And for the lovely Miss Summers?”

“Oh, just a water. Thanks, Schraz.”

Schraz nodded and smiled before hurrying off into the kitchen. Buffy watched him go, smiling bemusedly. If they did get stuck here, Buffy would have the small consolation of watching Schraz utterly drown Spike in questions.

When she turned back she saw that Spike was watching her with his own little grin.

“What?”

“Oh, it's just kind of funny. You, the Slayer, being all pally with demons.”

“Well, it's not like I have much choice. Besides they're not all bad. Schraz is alright, if a bit weird. And Yavis, that's the cook, he's downright nice. You know, he used to be some kind of big-time gladiator back in his home dimension. He jumped into a portal hoping to find the ultimate battle and wound up here instead. He and I spar now and then. It helps keep me from going totally stir-crazy.”

She stared thoughtfully out at the assorted crowd.

“I guess one thing I've learned being here is that most of these demons, back in their home dimensions, they're not _demons_. They're just people. I mean, there are definitely still plenty of evil demons out there, and when I get home I'm prepared to go right back into the slaying. It's just, not everyone fits into the same neat boxes anymore.”

Just as she finished that thought, Schraz hustled over with a broad grin on his face and a mug of steaming blood in his hand.

He set the mug down in front of Spike with a flourish.

“Try it. Let me know what you think.”

Spike hesitantly took a sip. He made a slight face of surprise or disgust but quickly suppressed it.

“Ah. Good, mate. Thanks.”

“Not a problem! I am glad you enjoy it. And don't think I've forgotten about you.” He winked at Buffy in a friendly manner. “I'll be right back.”

He returned a moment later with a glass of ice water, setting it down on the table and then lingering, hovering over the booth, clearly hoping to be invited to sit down.

“Thank you,” Buffy said. “But, um... Spike and I have a lot to catch up on, so...”

“Oh! No need to say anymore! I will leave the two of you. But later I expect to hear everything!”

He gave them a jovial smile and wandered off. Buffy noticed that he quickly found an excuse to sit with the two Verglos demons by the window, allowing him to stay close enough that he'd probably catch at least snippets of their conversation.

Spike seemed to notice this too. He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. The familiarity of the gesture made her heart skip.

He took a sip of his blood and made a face.

“Well, he was right. It doesn't taste like _mud_. Not really sure what it does taste like. Still... it's all I've had in days now.”

They sat for a long moment in silence. Spike to another sip and then set the mug down, staring into it, his brow creased.

“I, uh… I reckon I’m not exactly your first choice of rescuers.”

Buffy paused, thinking seriously about his words.

“I don't know. Maybe not my very first choice, though I'm not sure who that would be. Definitely not my last. Spike, I _am_ glad to see you. I... God, I can't even tell you how good it is to see a familiar face. But, I've gotta ask, why…”

“Why me? Or why did it take me so long?”

“Uh, yeah. Both I guess. And Dawn!” She exclaimed, her voice suddenly accusatory. “You said you’d protect her!”

“And I did. I made a promise to you and I wasn’t going to break it. But when Dawn went off to college…”

_College?_

“Wait! Wait! What? How long have I been gone?”

“Five years. Five years three months and twenty-two days, to be precise. How long has it been for you?”

“I-I don’t know. Time doesn’t really seem to pass here. Not in the normal way. It's so hard to tell but... God, five years. I… I didn’t think it’d been that long. Dawn... All this time I wasn't there for her.”

Buffy clenched her hands tightly under the table, trying desperately not to cry. She couldn't meet Spike's eyes, his pity and guilt and compassion were all too much.

“We never stopped looking for you, you know. All of us. For all our failings, in our own ways, we all kept trying to get you back.

“What with protecting Dawn, there was only so much I could do. I couldn't go too far or stay away too long. But then Dawn was all grown up and going to school outside the Hellmouth. The last time I saw her... It's kind of funny, really. She actually _thanked_ me for protecting her all those years.”

Spike laughed bitterly.

“I told her if I'd done it right the first time she wouldn't have needed me. 'Cause she would have had you. But then, I never could quite convince her to blame me for your jumping. For what it's worth, Buffy, I'm sorry. If I'd been just a little faster, smarter...”

Spike was gripping his mug so tightly that Buffy could tell it was in imminent danger of shattering.

“Spike.” He looked up at her. “Dawn was right. It wasn't your fault.”

He shook his head slightly, clearly not believing her.

“Nice to hear you say so, luv.”

His voice was soft, choked. And she could tell that despite not believing her words, he really meant his. Her simple statement seemed to have moved him profoundly. He shook his head again as if to clear it, continuing his narrative.

“Well, the Bit knew that I’d been itching to go look for you for years. My promise to you and my love of her were the only things that could ever have held me back. But she told me that she was safe now, at least in relative terms. And she made me make another promise. That I would find you. No matter what. Because, we both knew that I would do whatever it took. Even if it meant ripping my way through every hell dimension to find you.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I had to dive deep into some of the seediest parts of the demon world, looking for anyone who could help. 'Cause, of all the Scoobies, I'm the only one who'd ever think to ask there, or who stood any chance of success if he did.

“It's funny, I used to be completely at home in those kinds of places. I was always pretty confident in my ability to be the baddest bastard in any given room. Or at least make sure everyone thought I was. But this time... It just felt kind of... off. Like I was putting on the Big Bad mask, but it didn't really fit anymore, you know?

"Anyway, there were a lot of false starts. I'd find a demon who could scry across dimensions or who thought they could figure out where the portal had been open to the moment you jumped in. But they were all dead ends. Eventually, I heard about this place. A pocket dimension that sort of nabs folks as they’re traveling between dimensions. Not all the time. Far as anyone could tell, it's random. There was no guarantee that you’d be here. But there was a chance that either you were here or you’d passed through. And any kind of chance was better than anything I'd had in a long while.

“Problem was, no one intentionally comes here. Even if you want to, it doesn’t exactly have a fixed location in the multiverse. So opening a portal's no small matter. Finally, I found a Legros demon who claimed he could do it. But Legros... well, they’re not exactly evil, but they drive a hard bargain and they never take anything on credit. Money doesn’t mean much to them – 'least, not the kind of money that _I_ had – and threats are useless since if you do anything to hurt them they’ll just transfer their consciousness to one of the bloody pod-people clones they've got stashed away. So I had to work for him. I had to do some things I'm not exactly proud of…”

Buffy felt a stab of apprehension.

“But you didn’t kill anyone, right? I mean, you can’t with the chip?"

Spike suddenly looked profoundly nervous.

“Ah, yeah, about that. Thing is... thing is, chip burned out three years ago. Nearly fried my brains out with it. God, it was agony. I couldn't move, 'cept for the thrashing around, couldn't speak, could barely think. Eventually, your little sis managed to find some hack doctor crazy enough to operate for cash under the table and take the damned thing out.”

Buffy half-jumped out of her seat.

“So you...”

“Didn't go on a killing spree or anything. Just 'cause I can doesn’t mean I _do_. I don’t know if I’ll ever convince you, but I’m not the same vamp I used to be. Being in love with you made me _want_ to be better. And then, Dawn. All the time I spent with her... Just imagining what she'd think of me if she ever found out I'd gone back to killing... Either she'd never forgive me, or she'd forgive me just so she wouldn't have to lose me. Only that'd be kind of worse, wouldn't it?

“So no. I didn’t kill anyone. I _don't_ kill anyone.”

Buffy settled back into her seat, looking carefully at Spike. It was a lot to process, but he did seem utterly sincere. If he'd come here to kill her she'd have known by now. And if she ever found out that he'd lied and he was killing again... well, she'd do what she had to.

“Oh. Well if you didn’t kill anyone then what…?”

“Well, the bastard had me in a bind and he knew it. I’d shown him my weakness, I’d do anything to get you back. For six bloody weeks he ran me ragged, piling me with so much shite that I barely had enough time for a couple hours of kip and a few swigs of blood and whiskey each night. It was petty grunt work, more grueling and degrading than anything else. Overseeing shady trade-offs in dark allies, threatening minions, fighting some really nasty beasties to get ingredients for his black-market demon-parts business... And then the bastard kept stalling for time. Saying he wasn't ready, he needed more ingredients, more time to prepare. Would've strung me along indefinitely if he could. But, ultimately the joke was on him. 'Cause I found his stash of clones. Told him I'd off the whole lot of them if he didn't open the portal.”

Spike shifted uncomfortably under Buffy's intent gaze.

“They're just empty shells.”

“Oh. It wasn't that, actually. I mean, I can't say I'm thrilled with the idea of you working for some lowlife. But knowing why you did and everything you went through... To be honest, I'm kind of flattered.”

“And I'd do it a hundred times over and still count myself lucky if it meant sitting here with you.”

“Spike…” Buffy found herself reaching out across the table, grabbing one of Spike's hands and holding it gently in her own. “Thanks.”

There was a long moment of silence in which they were each locked in the other's gaze, neither knowing what to say. Buffy broke first, pulling her hand back and reaching for her glass of water. Cool streams of condensation ran down the glass and onto her fingers as she took a deep sip. When she looked up, Spike was fishing around in his coat's inner pockets, hunting for a pack of cigarettes. The pack he pulled out was damp and crumpled, mostly empty. Spike shook out a soggy cigarette and put it in his mouth with shaky fingers.

There was something in the gesture of Spike flipping open his Zippo that was strangely comforting in its familiarity. But that familiarity brought her mind back to her memories of Sunnydale, of the Scoobies in those last desperate days of their struggle against Glory. Everything she needed to get back to. Her friends. Her sister. Her calling.

“So, this, uh, Legolas demon gave you a way to get here. But you didn't have any way to get back? What was your plan?”

“Legros,” Spike corrected absently. “And the _plan_ was to get to you and figure the rest out later. Look, Buffy, we can try our luck out there again in a little while. Might work better if you've had a little rest or something.”

Buffy shook her head.

“It doesn't work like that. Besides, I've had more than enough time to rest here. I... I just want to get back home.”

Spike sighed heavily.

“About that. I, uh… I need you to know that even if we get back to Sunnydale, things won't be like they were when you left. A lot has changed. I just… I just want you to know that.”

Buffy waited for him to supply more information, but he seemed reluctant to continue.

“OK… I know things will have changed. I’m not stupid, Spike. It’s been five years. God, Dawn’s in college. I mean, in my head she’s been a fourteen-year-old girl this whole time. So what else? Is everyone OK?”

There was a long pause and when Spike spoke again his voice was low.

“No.”

“Wait, is anyone...”

“No, no one's dead. But... thing is, you have to understand that you being gone…"

“I’m not sure if any of us ever really recovered from losing you. And, while we kept up your work, protecting the Hellmouth an' all that, it was all just _harder_ without you."

He sighed and took a deep puff from his cigarette, eyes drifting to the rain-streaked windows.

"So let's see..."

Spike lifted a hand, ticking off her friends on his fingers.

“Willow got injured, badly. Less than six months after you left. Her magic got used up in the fight and the leader of a gang of two-bit demon losers broke her back.

“Seeing her learn that she’d probably never walk again…

“And Tara was pouring her own magics into Willow, trying to heal her. In her shoes, I suppose would have done much the same. But she was draining herself in the process. And Willow dug deep into some very dark magics. First to ease the pain and feel some kind of power again. Then because she liked it. I think we all could see the warning signs, but no one wanted to admit it. Because Willow was walking again. And because she was the most powerful tool we had. But dark magics don't really heal, they don't make things better. And Willow wasn't better. Not by a long shot.

“Eventually… she crossed a few lines. Did some things she may never forgive herself for. After that, she and Tara went into a sort of magic rehab program with a coven in England. Willow to learn to live with her limitations instead of overpowering them with magic, Tara to find herself again after she'd spent so long pouring herself into Willow. They’re still there now. Doin' a lot better, so I hear.

“Giles left for England, even before Red got injured. I think being in Sunny-D was too painful with you gone. Losing you... it seemed to age him about ten years. Break him somehow. But he never quit researching, trying to find a way to bring you back.”

“Xander and Anya eventually announced that they were engaged. Apparently, they got engaged the night before you… well. But they didn’t tell the rest of us until the day Willow first walked again. Xander said he’d been waiting for the right moment.

“The wedding never happened. Xander kept pushing the date back. Saying he couldn’t see getting married without you there. If you ask me though, he was just scared. Not sure how he’d measure up. He had a hell of a role model in the form of that father of his. And with the stress of losing you and then of seeing everything that happened to Willow… He was overeating and over-drinking to cope. Not that I blame him. There were, God, so many times after you vanished that I was tempted to throw myself into a bottle and never climb out.

“Eventually, Xander and Anya had a gigantic blow-out in front of everyone. Anya came right out and asked if he was ever planning on actually marrying her. And Xander just looked at her and said he didn't think he could. Tosser. Anya stormed off. I haven’t seen her since. Think she may have got back into the vengeance game, but I’m not sure. She never did curse Xander though.”

Spike sighed heavily and re-lit his damp cigarette, which had gone out on him.

“So, no. Everyone’s not alright. And things aren’t going to be as you left them when you get back. I just needed you to know that.”

Buffy was crying openly now, tears mingling with rain on her face. She was aware that Schraz and the patrons were shooting frequent glances their way, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything except the friends she'd left behind. The lives she'd ruined.

“God, it’s all my fault.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“If I’d been there…”

“Then awful, bleendin' unfair stuff would have _still_ happened,” Spike said firmly. “Life's like that. Bad things happen to good people. I should know, I've been the cause of the bad more than a few times myself. Yes, it was hard to lose you. But it wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to, to save the world and your sister. No one blames you for anything that happened after.

“'Sides, I've been telling you the worst of it, because I needed to prepare you. But it wasn't all bad, really.

“Dawn had her rough patches, and it was certainly hard for her to grow up without her mum or big sister. But she did grow up. And now she’s living with your watcher in London. I think having her around is actually doing the old boy some good. At least now he can’t just mope about all day.

“Oh, or take Xander. After a while, he stopped feeling quite so sorry for himself and started drinking less. He’s actually the only one of the original crew still left in Sunnydale now that Dawn’s gone. Unless you count Faith.”

“Faith?!”

“Yeah. She got out of jail a few years back. She’s a lot better than she was, or so I understand. Tryin’ to make up for the bad things she’s done and such. She and Xander actually make kind of a cute couple. Pretty obvious who wears the pants in that relationship, if you know what I mean.”

“Wait! _Faith and Xander_?”

Spike was grinning mischievously now.

“Yeah, thought that might surprise ya.”

“God, Xander has the _worst_ taste in women. Not that I can judge. OK. So now you’ve warned me that it won’t be like I remember. My friends are scattered to the four corners of the world. Willow's a recovering magic junkie, Xander's a recovering alcoholic, who also happens to be dating my former mortal enemy…”

Spike grinned slyly, taking another puff at his cigarette.

“Yeah, but they don’t always turn out to be so bad, do they? Mortal enemies?”

Buffy couldn't help giving him a small smile back.

“Yeah, I guess they don't.”

Buffy found her gaze drifting once again to the windows as she tried to fit this information into her picture of the world she'd left behind. Suddenly a realization came to her.

“God… There’s really nothing for me in Sunnydale anymore, is there? I mean, most of my friends are gone. And a Slayer's protecting it. I want to see Xander again, of course. But as a place to live...? Oh! My house is it still...?”

Spike shook his head slowly, his eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry pet. We couldn’t afford to keep it. For a while there, Willow and Tara were staying and paying rent. But then they fell apart and no one could afford the mortgage. We got an apartment together, Dawn and Xander and I. An unlikely group of roommates if ever there was one. I got a job and paid rent and everything.”

“You? Got a job. _You_ got a job?”

“Yeah. Someone had to pay the bills. Giles sent money every month but his watcher’s retirement was only so generous and didn't leave him with much to share. Xander chipped in as he could, but as I said, he was having issues of his own. Got laid off for a while. So I slung beer at Willy’s. Not the most glamorous of jobs, but it let me work nights and bring home a little dosh for me and the Bit.”

“You really did take care of her, didn’t you?”

“I know I was no replacement. And having no legal identity and a bit of a wonky moral code were both a bit of a hindrance at times, though Xander helped with those things. _Don't_ tell him I said this, but he's actually not so bad, that one. So, yes. I did my best.”

“Thank you, Spike.”

She stared out the window again.

“So it’s really gone. Home. Huh, I never imagined.”

“For what it’s worth, I always thought that home was more about the people you were with than the place you happened to be. Maybe your home's not gone, just scattered.”

Suddenly a broad, boyish grin flashed across his face.

“Hey, whaddya say we give those rains another go?”

“Huh? Now?”

“Yeah. Now. Come on, Slayer! Don’t you want to get out of here?”

His grin was infectious and Buffy rose, a smile creeping across her mouth.

“Yeah. I do.”

Schraz got to his feet, looking at them with a quizzical smile.

“Trying again so soon?”

Buffy nodded.

“OK. Well, maybe I see you again. Maybe I don't.”

He gave a philosophical half-shrug. On a sudden impulse, Buffy threw her arm around him in a quick hug.

Normally, no one said goodbye, or even acknowledged that they might be gone out of fear that they wouldn't. But that seemed silly now.

“Thanks.” She said. “It's been... Well, it's been a lot better than it could have been.”

Yavis was leaning on the kitchen door, looking bemused.

Buffy walked up to him and he wrapped her, briefly yet firmly, in his huge arms and then pushed her back enough to peer into her face.

“Think you'll make it this time?”

“I'm not sure. But I think I'll be OK.”

And then Buffy turned and followed Spike through the door.

The rain soaked even more quickly through her already damp clothes, but it didn't bother her so much this time. Droplets beat a steady rhythm, cool and soothing, against her skin.

Spike walked beside her, his eyes darting from her to the murky horizon, his expression determined. She reached out and grasped his hand firmly in her own.

He looked at her in surprise but said nothing. They walked in silence for a long while. Every now and then, less often than usual, she looked over her shoulder. The building slowly disappeared, leaving only the glowing red of the sign. Then that too was smudged out.

Eventually, they stopped and Spike addressed her, thoughtfully.

“You know that the rains could take us anywhere, right? Not just back to Sunnydale, or even back to Earth?”

“Yeah. I think I've always suspected. I guess I just always thought I could sort of will them into taking me home.”

“If it was possible, I’m sure you would have done it by now. I don't know if there's anyone in all the universes more bleedin' stubborn than you.”

“Well, except maybe you.”

Buffy let her eyes drift across the impressionistically blurred horizon, the expanse of shifting shades of lead and silver. There was a weird sort of beauty to it that she'd never really noticed before.

“That’s why I was stuck here, isn't it? All this time. Focusing so hard on home as I remember it... But the rains can take you anywhere. And you have to be OK with that.”

Buffy took a deep shuddering breath and turned back to Spike.

His eyes on her were thoughtful, intent.

“As long as we go together, I don’t much care where we wind up. But, wherever it is, I’ll find a way, someone who can open a portal, something. I’ll get you back. I made a promise to a lady.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Buffy stood for a long moment, not thinking of much at all. She watched the water roll off the flattened curls of his hair and travel along the sharp planes of his face.

Before she could overthink it, Buffy leaned forward and kissed him softly. She could taste the ionized water on his lips. His eyes widened in wonder and she gave him a small smile in return.

Buffy wondered if she could ever love him and realized that she wasn’t sure. But she’d been wrong about so many things before and, right now, she was okay with not knowing. She wondered how long it would take them to get back and, once they did, whether she’d find a place for herself, as a Slayer or in the lives of her friends. Would she go back to college? Find a career? She didn’t know. She grabbed Spike’s hand and stood by his side, fingers laced lightly through his.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the rain fall on her face. Buffy wasn't sure how long she stood like that, but, slowly, the rain stopped.

Buffy smiled and opened her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter titles in this story are taken from the Talking Heads song "This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)".


End file.
